The family portrait
by Errol's Feather
Summary: An one-short about the story behind the family portrait in Emily and Richard Gilmore's living room. Story is from Emily's point of view but a little Richard at the end.


**_Author's Note:_** I have been toying with this idea for a while and found it was time to write it. So here it is.

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 ** _The family portrait_**

Emily Gilmore was looking up at the old family portrait on the mantel piece, one day she was sitting on the couch reading. This was not the first time it happened, nor would it be the last, as the elderly woman was quite fond of the painting.

It had been painted back in the days when Lorelai was thirteen, as a reminder of the perfect family they once were. Or rather the perfect family she wanted them to appear to be. Because like every family, also theirs had cracks. Even though it might not have come off like that when the picture was pained.

She could still remember the day as it was yesterday when she had suggested it for her husband and daughter. It had been a Sunday afternoon and Richard was reading the morning paper, while Lorelai was asking him frequent questions for a history paper she was doing on the civil war. She sensed some irritation in his voice over being interrupted, but nothing major of course.

He never minded helping their daughter with her homework, and neither did she for that matter. After all she were back then and would always been their pride and joy. Lorelai never knew that she and Richard had planned to get at least another son or daughter, but fate would not have it that way.

When Lorelai was about two, Emily had a miscarriage. She had taken it hard, and whereas her daughter had been too young to remember, her mother never forgot. She and Richard even though they had consummated after that time, never tried again. Emily could not live with another loss.

Of course as she suggested it they both had thought it a wonderful idea, and so Emily had made an appointment for a painter to come to the house to do it a few weeks later.

Her eyes went to their daughter on the family portrait, so young, still so serious in that very portrait, they had had an argument on what she should wear in it. The argument had taken place only moments before, fate would have it their daughter had also had an argument in cotillion class the night before. She learned later on that someone had insulted her saying that her parents were old. Lorelai had objected strongly and insults had been made. She was still upset with it that very morning and that did not help her mood.

She could still remember her daughter pleading to wear a purple dress with white flowers for the portrait. Emily had told her not to be ridiculous as that would not be appropriate, or match the outfits she and her father planned to wear. In the end they had agreed on a black dress. And whereas she and Richard had proud smiles to the go with their social ranking and age would permit, Lorelai had looked rather solemn.

Still Emily loved the painting as it was a reminder of the core of her family. She and the two she loved the most. Richard always called his two loves his strong women, and said he would be lost without them. She knew for a fact that was true. For the years they only saw their daughter and granddaughter for Christmas and bigger events her husband had been rather sad. Although he like her would never let it show, she knew it to be a fact. Neither really did well without their daughter and granddaughter around.

Emily might have regrets in pushing Lore too far, but in the end both she and Richard knew that just that might had caused their daughter to aspire to the wonderful woman she was today. The portrait was a true testament to the stubbornness which were within their daughter.

"Ma'am," she heard her new maid Cecilia say and looked away from the painting.

"Yes, Cecilia," she answered polite. Polite and superior as she had been taught to do from an early age. Unlike her daughter she knew nothing about how not to act superior and out of her class. Sometimes, just sometimes she envied Lorelai for being as free as she was.

"Your daughter and granddaughter has arrived; do you want them to join you in here?" the maid asked polite.

"Yes please," Emily Gilmore gave her a dignified nod.

She soon heard their voices coming closer and Lore say, "So I was trying to write him a thank you not, but I can't."

"Why, all you have to do is write dear Luke thank you for the dinner last night," Rory responded.

"No because my mind is all wired still and you know I can't write letters or notes like that. Because once I sit down my mind starts going wile and I start with Dear Luke, dinner was great, and what came after…censured for your ears, did I remember to order new bed covers for the in, is purple or blue the better color, if she baby blue midnight blue or sky blue, the skies are really not blue today, they are grey, grey, rain, need a raincoat, or umbrella, stand under my umbrella, jump in water puddles, mud pie, chocolate cake, I need chocolate."

"Does your brain ever work normally?" Rory looked at her mother.

"I am not sure, I could really use some chocolate though," she added as they entered the living room, where Emily was sitting.

"Well you are in luck, today's dessert is chocolate fondants," Emily said, making them getting aware of her.

"Hi grandma," said Rory, giving her a warm smile, before sitting down on the opposite couch.

"Really, you know me too well, mother," Lorelai bent down and gave her a hug, before sitting down next to her.

Richard soon came to join them, debating something about the current presidential election with Rory. Both seemed to have strong opinions as always. Emily couldn't help but to notice how Rory had gotten the will of her mother and smiled. For a short moment it seemed like no time had passed at all since the portrait was painted.

"Mom, are you okay?" Lorelai looked at her with wondering eyes.

"I am fine, Lorelai, just thinking about the day the picture was painted, do you remember," she said, nodding towards the mantel piece.

"Of course…" she started going on, talking fast paced as always. Emily shoot in a few words now and then. From the other side Richard cast a glance at his wife and daughter, one calm and reasonable, another fast and lively. He smiled glad things never changed, happy that he would always have his two, now three loves in his life. In the end they would always make him sane and happy. That much he knew.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this story :o)


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